The Kingdom by Paul Bullock

Politics is as cool with Hollywood at the moment as breaking the law is with young, drug-addled starlets. Actors and directors from all kinds of cinematic backgrounds have become politically active in the years since 9/11, making liberal, left-leaning films such as Jarhead, Syriana and Munich. These movies have found the acceptance of critics, cinema-goers and awards bodies alike, but not everyone has been quite so impressed. Right-wing pundits such as Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh have taken issue with Hollywood’s New Liberalism, accusing it of pandering to a general anti-Bush sentiment with short-sighted and ultimately quite intellectually-flimsy films. The Kingdom appears to be another such example, but perhaps this one won’t inspire in O‘Reilly and Limbaugh quite so much consternation.

Produced by Michael Mann and directed by promising up-and-coming helmer Peter Berg (whose sensitive sports flick Friday Night Lights is still one of the most underrated films of the last few years), the film follows a crack group of FBI agents - leader Ronald Fleury (Jamie Foxx), forensics expert Mayes (Jennifer Garner), analyst Leavitt (Jason Bateman) and bomb expert Sykes (Chris Cooper) - as they struggle to investigate a terrorist atrocity on Saudi Arabian soil in the face of an establishment loyal to tradition and its monarchy. It’s a story which is supposed to address typically liberal policies of tolerance, moderation and compromise, preaching that these two separate cultures should put aside their differences and work together for the common good. Except, someone forgot to tell screenwriter Matthew Michael Carnahan.

Whether intentionally or through plain bad writing, Carnahan has created a script which acts as a justifying fantasy for conservative America. For the film‘s intended moral message to work, the FBI agents need to be flawed and ignorant at the start so they can learn from their experiences and see the error of their ways at the end. But they’re not. Their biggest failings are a slight naivety towards Saudi culture and an eagerness to get home as quickly as possible, which is perfectly forgivable considering the sensitivity of the situation they‘re in. What’s more, they never have to sacrifice their own beliefs in the course of the investigation and are never challenged to question what they are doing. Instead, Carnahan’s slipshod script constantly vindicates their assertions, showing that American methods get results and that Saudi traditions are absurd and outdated, particularly when addressing the role of Mayes in the investigation.

The only Saudi character who escapes Carnahan’s broad, stereotypical brushstrokes is the moderate Colonel Al-Ghazi (Ashreaf Barhoum, who starred in the similarly themed but far superior Paradise Now). However, while he is fleshed out, he is only done so on American terms. He bonds with Fleury through Americana, laughing about US slang and building up a warm, but slight relationship that feels like it’s been imported from a police buddy comedy: Lethal Weapons of Mass Destruction, if you will. He eventually proves himself a hero, as important in his own way to the investigation as any of the Americans, and this should count in Carnahan‘s favour. But, again he has to adapt to their way of thinking to succeed and is only given free rein to do so when Fleury, breaking with decorum, patronisingly praises him at an official meeting with the Saudi Prince at the Royal Palace.

Eventually, The Kingdom muddles its way toward a last act action meltdown in which one of the team’s number is kidnapped by a terrorist organisation. However, once again, it‘s confused as to what it wants to say. On the one hand, these scenes speak in the language of most modern day political thrillers, which is to say they steal the gritty, hyper-realistic handheld camerawork and harsh editing of Paul Greengrass’ left-wing tinged Bourne films. But Berg has nowhere near the same skill as the Brit helmer and lacks his ability to spike the action thrills with moments of horror which remind us that war and violence are not just entertaining fripperies. The film, therefore, seems to say not that war is a futile hell as Berg most likely intended, but that it‘s a sort of fantastical purgatory that's certainly harsh and unpleasant but possible to overcome if we blast our way through it as the characters here do.

Berg and Carnahan attempt to turn this around in the final scenes as they end the film with a poignant grace note that has our heroes returning from the Middle East and reflecting mournfully on their experiences. It’s a commendable moment and one that may convince you of the film’s greatness. Yet, quite aside from it expressing a sentiment that’s already been said before and better in Munich and Jarhead, the coda feels insincere and foolish considering everything that has gone before it. Ultimately, The Kingdom is a film which can’t quite work out whether it thinks America’s involvement in the Middle East is doomed and lamentable or justified and exciting. And frankly, when you’re dealing with issues as serious as mass murder and kidnappings that’s as bad as saying nothing at all.